Those Freckles
by Clearly Odd
Summary: Fill for the Kink Meme II.  freckly!John/Dave, Dave finds John's freckles to be sexy.  Oneshot.  I honestly have no idea what genre this goes in, my apologies.


Author's Note: So… I've been sucked into Homestuck. Haven't quite finished it yet, but I think I'm getting close? It's hard to tell. In any case, this is a fill I did for the second Homestuck Kink Meme…

"So freckly!John/Dave. The kink being Dave thinks they're the sexiest/kinkiest thing and maybe gets off on them while John thinks they're silly."

In any case, I'm all nervous and stuff, so… um… I hope you like it and if you don't I hope you're not inclined to be terribly mean about it… Thanks for reading!

-/-/-

It's not as though Dave never noticed them before. After all, he'd met John in-game during the Sburb fiasco; he'd seen that John had freckles then. However, there had been more pressing matters at hand than his best friend's skin pigmentation. Besides, they'd been a bit faded at that point- leftovers of a childhood lived in the sun, diminished by pre-teen years spent increasingly in front of a computer screen.

Now, however… It was a little over four years after beating the game and Dave had finally, _finally_ saved up enough for a flight to Washington (wouldn't have taken fucking forever if Bro wasn't too cheap to offer a little help and if Dave wasn't too stubborn to accept it) and John always insisted he could have flown down to Texas but he always had those summer jobs and god_damn_ if they haven't paid off.

John was wearing a tank-top bearing the logo of the day camp he'd been working at every summer since he was 14 (_I can't believe they're letting you inflict your serious case of excessive derp on young minds, Egbert_) and a pair of knee-length shorts, both of which aided in showing off his freckles _spectacularly_.

Dave's eyes roamed over the random splashes of the spots on John's legs, to the even coating of them on the outsides of his arms and shoulders, pausing on the less frequent dots adorning what was visible of his chest, before finally coming to rest on his friend's face- the best part of the ensemble, in his opinion. He still wore comically large glasses- still resisted wearing contacts for some reason, and completely balked at the idea of laser eye surgery- but his teeth were freshly straightened (his braces had just come off, as he would proudly tell anyone who stood still long enough). His eyes were the same bright blue Dave remembered them to be, his hair and grown into even more of a mess over the years, and it was all brought together by freckles smeared across his nose and cheeks and down the sides of his face, almost framing his ever-bright smile.

"Dave! It's great to see you!" John exclaimed, leaping forward and wrapping his arms around Dave's shoulders in a way that the 17-year-old certainly would have protested had he not been so distracted. "Hey, do you have enough to pay the cab driver?"

Cab driver? Oh, yes… Most things in his brain had taken a back seat when John had come bounding out of his house. "Yeah, yeah, gimme a minute." Dave muttered, digging into his pocket and producing the amount of money the cabbie had asked for twice already.

"Man, it's just awesome that you're here!" John cheered again as the cab drove off, "You look good, bro."

"Yeah, you too, Egbert. Nice spots." Dave reached out and dragged a finger across John's freckled forearm, as though he expected the dots to rub off.

"Oh… heh." John's already slightly sun-burnt face flushed even more, but he smiled on. "Yeah, I never was able to get a tan; I just add, like, a bajillion more freckles to my collection."

"No kidding. You freckle like a goddamned ginger, Egbert." Dave replied, bending down to grab his bag off the surface of the driveway.

John paused, his smile fading ever-so-slightly. "Yeah… I know they look kinda dumb, but…"

Dave was quick to cut off the line of speech, though he sounded passive as ever. "Hey, hey, don't go fucking misquoting me here, I didn't say they look dumb. Just agreed you have a lot of the suckers."

"Oh… you don't think they look dumb?" The bespectacled teen perked up slightly.

"Nah… In fact, I kinda like 'em." Dave resisted the strong urge to mumble the admission. Mumbling did not sound cool or nonchalant and he hoped to get away with at least one of those adjectives.

It was barely a second before John's smile was back in full force. "You do?" He asked eagerly.

"Yeah, sure. And I know you must want to start your fangirl screaming right about now, but my ears will thank you to just hold that shit in." Dave's comments were promptly ignored as John continued speaking.

"I mean, I still think they look sorta silly, but it's sweet of you to say!" John nudged his good friend in the ribs, to further convey the sense that he was joking, and then looked back toward his house. "Okay, lemme show you my room- that's where you're gonna have to sleep because we don't really have a guest room, so, sorry about that- but seriously, we are going to have the most awesome time…"

The blonde rolled his eyes behind his ever-present shades and followed his chattering friend over the lawn, but even that action didn't keep him from watching how the freckles danced over John's skin as he waved his arms animatedly. It was about then he realized that this _might_ be a problem.

-/-/-

It was around 11:30 in the evening Dave decided it was more than just a problem, it was torture. Cruel and unusual. Honestly. He had tried to keep his mind on platonic-bro-type activities, he really had. He had spent a good half-hour actually attempting to pay attention to Ghostbusters II as it blared on John's laptop (his empty threats of "I swear to God, Egbert, if you try to make me watch Con Air, I am walking out that door" had not been ignored) while they sat on his bed. But he became altogether distracted by John's piano-player fingers resting idly on the laptop. He was further distracted by following the fingers to his freckle-specked arm, up said arm, across his equally-spotted shoulders, and down the lean lines of his back. From there, Dave's eyes would come to rest on the strip of skin that was showing under the tank-top, which was riding up as John lay stretched out on his stomach. The blonde's eyes would linger over the few freckles he could see there (_how did he even __get__ freckles there?_) and then trail further, over the trim waist, the swell of nothing-special-but-still-nice ass, and down over John's legs.

And lord, was Dave thankful John was enraptured with the movie, because he just couldn't stop _looking_.

It wasn't the first time in the evening he'd been struck with the completely unironic urge to grab John, press their lips together, run his hands over all his bespotted skin, tell the dark haired boy how attractive he found him and sound like a complete and total fucktard while doing it, because (assuming John didn't freak the fuck out) he knew it would make his friend happy to hear.

Of course, John freaking the fuck out was a very real possibility and, thus, Dave kept his hands to himself. More or less. But in his mind, he found himself shucking off John's clothing and finding out how far down those freckles went. By the time the movie was over, Dave was highly uncomfortable in his jeans and looking for any kind of out that wouldn't be too suspicious. That was when John sat up, yawned and stretched (goddamn) and said, "Yikes, it's pretty late… we should probably be getting to sleep," and Dave formulated a hasty plan.

"Yeah, probably a good idea. You go any longer without your precious beauty sleep and things are gonna get fucking ugly in here. Even I might not be able to offset it." John rolled his eyes and looked as though he was about to retaliate, but Dave didn't give him the chance. "Hey, you mind if I grab a shower before hitting the sack?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, sure. Go ahead. You know where the bathroom is, right?" John asked as he approached his dresser, obviously with the intent of getting his pajamas.

"Well, I'm not enough of an idiot to have forgotten where it is in the past three hours, if that's what you're asking." Dave replied, ever playing it cool, as he made a leisurely dash for the door.

However, just before he made it through the portal to the hall, John caught his attention. "Hey!" Dave twisted around at the call, avoiding facing John head-on for all he was worth. "Aren't you going to take something to change into?"

John was quirking an eyebrow, but what worried Dave the most- or would have, if worrying wasn't such an uncool thing to do- were the hands poised at the edge of his tank-top. "Yeah, right." Dave grunted and turned to grab some clothing suitable for sleeping in from his bag, which was conveniently positioned by the door.

He sincerely hoped John wasn't about to do what he thought he was going to do, but when he cast a glance back at his friend, he nearly choked on his tongue. John had yanked his tank top cleanly over his head, leaving his glasses askew, his hair pleasantly mussed, and revealing more lean lines of freckled skin. Dave felt as though he recovered from it nicely though- by striding very quickly out of the room. He barely heard John telling him that the green towel on the rack was for him.

Slamming the door perhaps a bit harder than he'd meant to, Dave got to work quickly. He dropped his pajamas on the downturned lid of the toilet and then moved to the shower. After impatiently fiddling with the knobs to bring the water to a pleasant temperature, he began to strip off his clothing. Socks, shirt, pants- with a sigh of relief at his erection's release from confinement- boxers, and, always last, his sunglasses. He performed these actions so quickly the mirror hadn't even begun to steam up yet when he pulled the shower curtain aside and stepped into the spray of hot water.

Dave hissed at the feeling of warm water over his now particularly sensitive skin but kept his voice out of the equation, lest he alert John or, possibly worse, John's father to his activities. This was, of course, nothing new, being as back at the apartment Dave could never tell when Lil' Cal or one of those fucking smuppets was going to pop up, so quick and quiet was key.

Without preamble, the teen reached down and wrapped his fingers around his arousal. Another almost-silent sigh of relief escaped his lips as he began stroking up and down, slowly at first. It was a nice feeling- it always was, standing in a private, enclosed area of warmth and water and allowing himself to relax under his ministrations. Dave had never taken the stance that masturbation was something to be ashamed of; barring the occasional ill-timed puppet attack, Bro certainly hadn't taught him it was a bad thing. It was relaxing, an occasional necessity, and _damn_ it felt good. So, yes, it was a nice feeling.

Yet Dave had the impression it could be nicer.

He could imagine it was another hand that was beginning to speed up the strokes- one with skin a different shade of pale, peppered with freckles, and with pianist's fingers wrapped around his dick. The hand could deftly bring him to completion, Dave was sure; hell, just imagining John there in the shower with him, jerking him off in long strokes, was doing the job just fine. Placing his hand on the wall in front of him and leaning forward a bit, Dave sped up his strokes a little more. If he took too long, John (the real one waiting back in his room, not the imaginary one Dave was debauching in the shower) would begin to wonder what was up.

Imagination was a wonderful thing and Dave wouldn't let anyone tell him otherwise. He could imagine John sinking to his knees and replacing his hand with his mouth, engulfing Dave's length in wet, tight warmth. The hot water helped with this illusion. He could further imagine John's bright blue eyes staring up at him, communicating a smile his lips were too busy to form and framed with those gorgeous sun-darkened spots that were sprinkled all over his face.

Moving his hand faster, he was so close, so-so close. He could imagine John sensing it, feeling it, pulling back off Dave's cock with a little noise and finishing him off with his hand. Dave could imagine that maybe, maybe, John would stay put and allow the other boy's release to spatter onto his skin right alongside those freckles and- then the blonde came, thrusting into his hand with a barely muffled grunt.

Dave took a couple of minutes to enjoy the hazy, post-orgasmic bliss and catch his breath a bit before taking the shower head down to wash away the remains of his release. He then grabbed the shampoo- John's shampoo, actually, since he'd forgotten to grab his own- and began to wash his hair, vaguely recognizing the fact that he would be due for a bit of a freak-out later over his new-found attraction to the derp down the hall. At the moment, however, he was just glad that when they turned off the lights to sleep, the darkness would hide John's freckled face.

-/-/-


End file.
